Vicious Cycles

Summary: "And a laughing voice echoes in your head, repeating in rows of off-balanced harmonies, singing that you always knew, you always knew, you always knew, you always knew. It is not quite yours."

Chapter 1

Pain; a curious thing. A reaction to a traumatizing event.
Opposite pleasure, oftentimes the same thing; hysteria.

Pain. Such a beautiful thing; twisting and writhing, and you
mourn the memory of gladness; despair.

Pain, something for you to crave. A mudslide that you relish
and dig in deep, where you feel like you’ll never get out of- that you’ll never
want to get out of. Such beautiful
things come from pain, begging and screaming and crying for it to stopstopstop
but would never give it up for anything because it’s better than feeling
nothing and reminds you that you’re alive
in all of the dark beauty that is your soul.

Hope. It is odd at first; something that is foreign and
strange, and you’re not entirely sure that it is good, but vaguely identifiable
all the same. But with hope comes the memories of a better time and place;
where such things were commonplace, and the pain comes again - comforting in
its familiar slow burn; exquisite.

Nothingness. It is odd, to have no feelings. The mind seems
stark without them. The pain doesn’t come as easily nowadays, and the physical
kind is different. It lasts longer, but if it cannot always be fresh (the
smooth sweet feeling of ribbon razorblade sliding under your skin and silkily
drawing the beloved red substance that tastes sweet and is such a pleasure to pull, almost as good and oh so close to the pain), then it should
not be inflicted.

Emptiness. It is not as familiar as nothingness, but close
enough not to make too much distinction. But the thought seems to rattle
around; echoing through your hollow shell. So you think so much it hurts, let
the subconscious thoughts run through your brain at full speed, hardly
comprehending them before they’re gone; barely slowing them down.

Wilting. You read something sad, so sad. The pain should cut deep, but it
doesn’t. You want
to cry, you should cry, but the tears won’t come.
Have they been all cried out? You long for the feeling of salt on your skin as the tear tracks
dry. Why can’t you cry? You
want to cry.

Laughter. It comes slowly at first, only at the lewdest and
wryest of jokes. Short bursts of sound that you don’t really feel. It’s more
like hysterics, really. But it comes.

The emptiness comes longer, nowadays. Or rather,
Nothingness. Only the Nothingness to keep yourself entertained, and you know
what it feels to be a full Vulcan. They don’t notice anything; they never do-
Excuses mixed with acting are all that’s necessary.

Music. Music is what fills your brain now, so that none of the
darkness comes; none of the Emptiness or the Nothingness. But the pain still
lingers, deep and behind barriers, oh, so many
barriers. You can’t really feel the
pain anymore, so instead you listen to music, and hope that you will feel once again… This lasts a while.

It is a crutch. You laugh; you smile; you walk and fly and
feel free. You worry and despair, too. But stress comes on your shallow,
shallow, fragile existence. The emptiness comes up again; wry, morbid humor the
only thing to twist your lips into a cruel, ever so cruel smile. They never notice, as usual. Always as usual. But instead,
you fade away. Your faint, fledgling hope dies, and your faint, painted on
emotions fade in the harsh heat of summer. You still do the things you enjoyed,
but it no longer brings you joy like
it used to- what small measure you felt in the first place.

Obsession fills your days now. Sick, macabre obsession with
all things termed as ‘dark’ and ‘evil.’ You make your own judgements, keeping
what you have learned of shades of grey in mind, and find that you rather like it. The cruel, mocking humor; the
always-looming ill-fated end rushing on them; unstoppable. You laugh at their
misfortune as you always have, and find that recognition of your own darker
side of nature leaves you feeling.

But it is small, and when you must return to the world which
you live in, sterile apathy and the simple masquerade mask that you must wear
comes back on; plastered on like a clown’s makeup. Every now and then, the old
thoughts of escaping come to life.
Escaping the boredom and the worry; even if only briefly overtaken by wonder of
the novel in life. But those thoughts end as they always have- wait. The apathy comes back to the
forefront, since you cannot feel the pain anymore.

But you would do almost anything for it to come back. It let
you know you were human, with the ability to feel. These days, you doubt that
you are, and your true appearance doesn’t help the doubting in the line of
thought. Desperation comes back to haunt you like an old curse; floating up at
odd, random, inopportune moments. If to bear emotions is the criteria for being
human, then… you don’t qualify.

And a laughing voice echoes in your head, repeating in rows
of off-balanced harmonies, singing that you always knew, you always knew, you
always knew, you always knew, you always knew. And you are not completely,
obsessively bothered by that mocking voice. You wonder, but it is idly - dispassionately,
as all things that you say, do, or think these days are.

And one day, you look
at yourself in the mirror, and you see something. Your eyes-

Lydia Walters:
I really enjoyed this novel. It gives us a view of what could be if we really tried.Also that there's nothing wrong with loving our LORD and our fellow humans. couldn't wait to get to each new chapter (mission). Thanks, Joe!

William Elliott Kern:
Andrew, I felt the terror of the hospital fire, the loss of lives, the hospital closed for some 30 plus years, and now, a girl is seen in the upper floors, which opens the religious aspect to your story, faith in what? overall i enjoyed the story, the progression and character development and th...

trippix1963:
Not really a big surprise at the end, but it's pretty well written and fun. I liked the characters - they were more developed than in some successful published books I've read. A few typos but I've seen that in published books in the last few years.

Aditya Harikrish:
It had me on tenterhooks since the very first page. Excllently developed plot and characters. You've done an amazing job of building a fantasy world from scratch. Hats off to you!A sequel is a must.

Donna J Rinas:
I thought it was a great read! A real page turner. There were lots of surprising and unexpected plot twists. The descriptive writing was very well done and you could just envision the places in your mind. Could see this being turned into a movie! I really enjoyed it. Would love to read more...

Nishant Jain:
I felt as if i am watching a movie,not reading a book. The story was definitely interesting. It was more of action than horror for me. There are a few grammatical and spelling errors I came across and at times I found it difficult to imagine some things which the author is trying to convey, but o...

Jodee3596:
I really did like this story. Lacey Amanda Jones is very well written. It's a story about a girl who didn't like who she was but wasn't really sure how to change that and still get what she wants. Then there's Finn. What or who is he? Her gay BFF, some stalker guy who takes pictures of her or the...

debmart6901:
I could not put this story down. I stayed up reading when I should have been in bed. could not get enough, could not wait to find how it ended. Great story telling. Great detail. Loved it. The characters were very vivid.

hannahparson11:
When I downloaded this app, I expected crappy writing from amateur authors. Needless to say, I am pleasantly surprised at the stunning writing this novel presented, and the amazing plot. Worth the read.

Other Collections

About Us:

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered book publisher, offering an online community for talented authors and book lovers. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books you love the most based on crowd wisdom.